Wolf Pack_Invasion and Conquest

by Rob Buckman

  "All right. From the left, number off." One by one, they did, a few shouting, others almost whispering.

  "Odd numbers one pace forward." Obviously, a few didn't know the difference between odd and even, but they soon found out by the snide comments.

  "Hey, clueless, 15 is an odd number." Decker moved to the end of the room near the stairs.

  "Rear rank; turn right to face me, front rank turn left to face away from me. Now walk towards me and the first person in the row facing away from me, follow the last person in the other row."

  As they did, Decker grabbed each female, and formed them into three ranks, moving down the line until he reached the end. Sixty-three confused women, all wondered what was going on. Decker moved to the side and looked them over. He now had 21 rows of females lined up in order and ready to take their first step down the road to becoming soldiers.

  "Everybody face me." There was nothing military about the formation, but he didn't care. At least he had them in a reasonable semblance of order and all facing the same way at the same time.

  "Right. Now look around at the people in front, behind and to each side of you. When I call you to fall in, those are the positions you will take. Clear?" He asked as they looked around. A few 'yes sir' came back, but not many. That would change.

  "Rear rank; take one step back, front rank one step forward." Decker walked slowly along the front rank, stopping once in a while to look in someone's eyes and hand them a slip of paper. There was nothing on it, which brought puzzled looks.

  "The ten people who I handed a slip of paper to, move over by the table." He waited for them to move before continuing.

  "All those who are left-handed, put your hand up." Thankfully ten did.

  "All the left-handed people move over to the wall behind me." There was a little pushing and shoving as people moved through the ranks.

  “Now all the right-handed people put your hands up.” He picked ten. “Those I picked, move to the end wall.” He pointed off to his left. That took a total of thirty people out of the lineup. Again, he walked down the lines, occasionally touching someone.

  "Those I touched, move to the rear wall." That took out another ten. In each case, he'd picked young, strong looking women, leaving mostly the older and younger women still in line. He picked another ten and told them to move off to the right.

  "Okay people. If you are wondering what I'm up to, I'll tell you. The ten people by the table will be our scouts, out front looking for trouble. They will be in a rotating group of five, spaced fifty yards apart."

  "The left-handed group will be our right flankers; the right-handed people will be our left flankers. The other group will be our rear guard." The puzzled looks told Decker he'd have to explain.

  "Right-handed people naturally tend to hold their weapon in their right hand with the barrel pointing left, so they will be on our left flank with their weapons pointed away from the Pack, and towards any possible threat. The left-handed are the opposite, they hold their weapon in their right hand with the barrel pointing to the right, away from the Pack, those will be our right flankers."

  "What about us? A stern faced older woman asked."

  "Call me a chauvinistic prick, but if you look around, you'll find that I left the oldest and youngest in the center. You are there to act as a rapid reaction force to take out anything the point, or flankers run into that they can't handle."

  "That's not fair."

  "I disagree. We will be traveling about twenty to thirty miles a day depending on the terrain. Do you think you can keep up that pace?"

  "Gees. I don't know if anyone can keep that up."

  "That's the point. I picked the healthiest people to be our point, flankers, and rear guard as we can only move as fast as the slowest people in the group."

  "Thirty miles a day is a bit much to expect, isn't it?"

  "Yes, but I'm going to start out slow, at a walk and see how we shape up. Once we get going, I expect to speed up to a pace between a walk and a run." He didn’t add his thoughts about the number of people who’d just drop out, or do something really stupid and get themselves killed or injured so badly that he’d either have to leave them behind, or top them himself. Not a happy thought, or something he really wanted to do. It was more of an incentive, and to make these women understand just how serious this was.

  "What do we do for weapons?"

  "I'm working on that. The first order of business is to see what's available here, that's your job while I go and retrieve my team’s weapons and equipment from the crash site." He could see they weren’t sure what they were supposed to do, but he left that for June and Grace to work out, and said so.

  “June and Grace will coordinate the scavenger hunt on the base, and find every bit of military equipment you can. We need boots, clothing, MREs, field first aid kits, ground sheets, sleeping bags, and Bergen… rucksacks.” He corrected, ticking off the points on his fingers. “You will each be carrying about twenty to thirty pounds of equipment when we move.” That brought a few gasps and comments.

  "Shut it! This isn’t a fucking democracy." He barked. That brought silence. "You don't want to play by my rules, leave!" Many glared at him, unused to people yelling at them like that.

  "Grace and I will take care of the scavenger hunt, sir." June emphasized the sir.

  "Good. Don't forget the toilet paper and um… well… female stuff." June grinned and nodded.

  "Oh, by the way. Is anybody pregnant, or think they might be preggy?" Everyone looked around, but it was a young 16 or 17-year-old girl that caught his eye. She was blushing bright red. Decker walked over.

  "What's your name?"

  "Carroll… sir. Carroll Cummings. People call me CC."

  "Time to 'fess up Carroll." Decker relaxed slightly, speaking softly to be less intimidating.

  "Carroll, what's he talking about." The older woman standing beside the young girl asked. She cringed a little.

  "I… well… Bobby and I."

  "What she is trying to say is. This Bobby character got in her panties before he went off and got himself killed playing hero to impress his girl."

  "What! Is this true?" Carroll’s mother glared at him in the way he’d expressed himself, not that Decker gave a shit.

  "Yes, Mom. It's no big deal. We only did it once, and I don't think he got me pregnant."

  “How could you… especially at a time like this? I thought I’d taught you better than that.” Her mother replied, tearing up. “What on earth is your father going to say…” She trailed off and started crying. Her husband was dead, so he’d never know.

  "Sweet Jesus. Please tell me we have a Doctor here." Decker sighed.

  “I'm a Doctor.” Someone called. Decker looked around to see a good-looking older woman walking towards him.

  "I have three years of medical school." Another added.

  "Right. As of now, you are the company Doctor and medic. Decker beckoned them over. "Your names?"

  "I'm Doctor Mason, Thelma Mason, but as usual, most people just call me Doc." Decker nodded and smiled. Even the medic in a team was called ‘Doc’ once he’d proved him or herself.

  "Yeah, it goes with the territory. You are?" He looked at the tall brunette."

  "Andrea Granlund, third year medical. I was on vacation here to see my... um… well, my boyfriend." Decker translated that into girl friend, or a friend with benefits. Either one he didn't care, who someone took to bed was none of his concern.

  "Take this girl and find out if she's pregnant or not."

  "I'm not sure how, considering the limited equipment I have, but if she is?"

  "Then Doctor, despite your medical or religious ethics, get rid of it."

  "What... no… you can't." Carroll pleaded.

  "There is no way we can travel four hundred odd miles with a pregnant girl. Oh, the first few months will be okay, but after that, you'll only slow us down. Then, if you carry it to term, how are you going to give birth out in the bush, let alone feed
and take care of it? One cry at the wrong time could get us all killed."

  "Native American women did it for thousands of years before the white man arrived." That stopped Decker for a moment.

  "Point taken. If she is pregnant, and she keeps it. I am going to make it a group responsibility to make sure she keeps up, even if you have to carry her." Decker looked around the group, seeing them all nod. Decker doubted the baby would last more than a month out in the bush. There were just too many things against it survival, especially when winter arrived. As it turned out, the girl was lucky and wasn’t pregnant.

  "Make sure you understand. Once we start moving we don't stop except for breaks, sleep, scavenging for food and supplies and to take out anyone in our way."

  "Hah! We will need weapons for that." Someone in the back commented.

  "Yes, and it's something we have a shortage of, sir. My husband… the Colonel took most of the weapons with him, I'm afraid."

  "No problem. There are weapons, and then there are weapons."

  "What did you mean by anyone in our way, sir?"

  "Sad to say, besides the aliens, a lot of the animals out there walk on two legs instead of four. We know from reports that came in before everything went dark, that a lot of people have gathered into marauding bands, killing and raping their way across the countryside, here, and elsewhere."

  "Hell, you say. What do we do about them?"

  "Avoid them if possible, or wipe them out if we can't." That brought a few startled looks from the group. "The one thing we have going for us is, instead of shooting on sight, these assholes will probably want to capture you, seeing you are all female."

  "And this is a good thing?"

  "Too right. It means it will give you the chance to swarm all over them and kill them."

  "That's a lot to ask of a bunch of untrained women, sir." Grace added.

  "By the time we meet up with any of them, you will be trained, believe me, but we'll get to that a little later after we've got the clothing and equipment sorted out."

  "I used to work in the HQ building on stores, sir. I know the layout of the camp and where everything is, better than anyone." A twenty something dark hair girl piped up.

  “Good. What’s your name?”

  “Ronda Clement… sir.” She added.

  “Okay, Ronda, you are now the Pack Quarter Master. We'll want to know where the supply building, armory, and kitchen are located.”

  "Oh gee, okay I guess. Most of the buildings suffered a lot of damage but I can pinpoint their location, and there’s a lot of stuff in the basements of the warehouses that should be undamaged."

  "No matter, search the remains and find what you can and bring it back here."

  "Anything special we should look for, sir." Grace asked, grinning from ear to ear. This was bread and meat to her.

  "Knives, machetes, axes, rifles, Ghillie suits, if they have them and anything useful, such as fire starters, toilet paper, grenades, explosives. You get the picture."

  "Yes, sir. All the nasty military shit, uniforms, and survival gear." Decker grinned at Grace’s description. This wasn't the first time she'd been down this road in the Marine Corp.

  "Sempra Fi Marine. Keep them under cover as much as possible, or freeze in place if one of those damn destroyer ships comes over."

  "Just freeze."

  "Yes. From what I've seen so far, the aliens don't kill deer, dogs, sheep, or cows. Which means they only shoot at upright, bipedal humanoid life forms?"

  "What does that mean in plain language?"

  "If you are standing up, or running on two legs they shoot you. Got it? Make like a sheep, or a dog, if you are small enough and you should be safe. The worst thing you can do if they do start shooting is to get up and run or shoot back at them."

  "So, if they do start shooting, just crouch down lower."

  "Right. We have no way of knowing how good their IR… infrared or detection equipment is." Decker doubted they could stay still if the aliens started shooting just for fun, but maybe his advice would save a few.

  "Let's get to it people." He grabbed Doctor Mason as she walked by. “Did you have a clinic on base or a surgery?”

  “Yes, a small clinic, why?”

  “Go see what condition it’s in and collect any usable medical stuff you can carry, drugs, and things like that, you’re going to need it.” She nodded and walked away.

  After that, Decker walked through the women, picking out the most athletic looking female to make up his recovery team, and after one last check that people were doing something constructive, he took off at dusk.

  He gave the group of older women the shotguns, the .30 caliber carbine and the few handguns he didn't have a lot of ammo for. At least they could defend themselves to a degree. With the amount of MREs in the warehouse he gave them as many as they could carry and loaded as many was he could into the recovery teams rucksacks. He waited until dark before taking off, and the moonlight helped, but the going was slow even though they followed the Tehachapi-Willow Springs road and stopped every mile or so to rest. Decker couldn’t blame the old women and a few others for taking this way out, knowing in his heart they couldn’t make it more than a day, especially with a load he expected people to carry. The heartache from having to leave them beside the trail would have been too much for many of the Pack, and they too would have given up. It was a hard thing he was asking them to do, and he was a little surprised at how many had taken him up on his offer to go north with him. When he’d offered, he expected maybe five or ten at the most would won' to go, but maybe the stark reality of the situation finally came home to them. The thought of being left behind on their own, just waiting for the aliens to come in and kill them, or starving to death wasn’t a pleasant thought.

  As dawn was streaking the eastern sky the next day, they reached a turn off onto a dirt road, which in turn led to and even narrower track as the trail forked again. In the dawn light Decker could see the wind turbines along the hilltops, hearing in the distance the soft ‘whup-whup’ sound they made. At least the old women would have power for a while. Finally, they reached a cluster of dark buildings behind another low hill that completely masked the place from the road. They should be safe here from wandering marauders, as there was nothing on the road to show this place even existed. With so many similar places scattered through the hills around Tehachapi, he doubted the aliens would take any more notice of this place than they had of the others. While he unpacked the MRI’s into cupboards, the group said their last farewells before they took off again and headed for the crash site.

  Decker just nodded and waved as he left, rather than hug each, as the memory of people he'd lost crowded his mind just then, adding the sad, tearful faces of the old ladies as they left was something he didn't need. Here they were reasonably safe, as much as they could be in this new world, and live out their lives in peace, or so he hoped. With one last look back, he took off at a jog back to highway 58 and the crash site.

  His new team slowed him down a little, and it took a day and a half, to hump back to the crash site, but Decker didn't complain. It was better than he expected. He did pick the twenty most athletic looking women to take with him, and one or two surprised him. Word would get back to the others about the pace he set, so he doubted any of them would have any illusions about what to expect. In a private moment, he shook his head at his own stupidity. To even think about taking sixty odd, out of condition, young and old women on a four-hundred-mile yomp over the Sierra Nevada Mountains was a crazy idea at best, to really go and do it was just plain insane. He was betting he'd lose half of them from exhaustion or injuries within a week, but he had to try to save a few of them. For what, he didn't know, maybe getting killed later when the aliens shifted into high gear and started sweeping the countryside, exterminating the last of humankind. In places like the Amazon jungle, or high mountain areas, that was almost impossible, but that didn't matter. As long as they wiped out the majority of the human race quickly,
the rest could be hunted down at their leisure. Who knew, maybe they set up hunting preserves and have open season when the locals could go out, and hunt down the few remaining survivors for sport. Not a happy thought and not something he wanted the others to know about. Without knowing what exactly the aliens wanted, he had no way of predicting how they saw humans. As slave labor would mean many of them would survive, but from what he’d seen so far, he wasn’t betting on it. Killing a bunch of unarmed civilians gave him the impression they wanted to wipe out the human race and take over the planet for themselves.

  "One step at a time Decker my lad, one step at a time." He muttered to himself.

  Even several days later, a thin finger of smoke still lifted into the still air over the wreckage of the aircraft, as tree stumps and broken trees still smoldered. He used that to home in on the last mile to the crash site. After checking around for any movement or signs that someone had been there, Decker and his team moved carefully up to his stash and unearthed the nineteen sets of Spec Ops gear. Oddly, the aliens hadn’t bothered visiting the crash site, so maybe they just didn’t care what the aircraft was doing here in the first place.

  "Where are the men who wore these?" Krista asked.

  "Dead. Buried back that way." Decker nodded over his shoulder toward the north.

  "You buried them." Decker nodded again.

  "How did you manage to survive… sir?" Another asked.

  "Dumb luck and an upset stomach." That brought odd looks, so he explained.

  "I was hung over from the demob party the night before the operation and I needed to go for a… well a piss and throw up. I was standing on the lowered ramp when the aircraft took a hit. We were too low for a jump, but the explosion blew me off the ramp. I simply grabbed my 'D' ring, pulled and hoped for the best."

  "Wow, you were lucky."